My First Time: Female, New England, 22

I grew up in a fairly conservative household. Dad was extremely protective of his two daughters, and Mom taught us that we wouldn't be able to wear white dresses on our wedding day if we had sex before marriage. That was my only sex education. I never had "the talk" with either of my parents; I guess my mom just always assumed that I would follow the Church's stance on premarital sex without question. Imagine her horror when I was the only student in my sixth grade class who didn't sign the 'True Love Waits' pledge, simply because I didn't feel informed enough to make a decision like that at that time in my life.

I met him in high school. He was one of the few liberals at my school in my small Southern town, which made him ten times more attractive in my eyes. We were good friends and then we started dating at seventeen. He knew that I wanted to wait until marriage to have sex, and he never pressured me to do anything that made me feel uncomfortable. But, despite the fact that we were both attending colleges in New England, we decided to split. By the end of our first semesters in college, we fell out of touch. He became "that guy that I used to date" in all of my conversations with friends, and from his Facebook updates of photos and statuses, I assumed that he had moved on.

Fast forward to four years later. As I was preparing myself for my last all-nighter in college, I received a Facebook message from him. "Hey," he wrote. "Graduation is coming up soon, and I was thinking about all of the people who have really shaped me. I realized that you're one of them. How are you?"

I was stunned. After we split, I never expected to see or talk to him again. We decided to meet the week before we graduated. Things had changed—he had finally grown into his lanky build, and he seemed so grown up. But the initial spark that had attracted me to him nearly seven years before was still there. And, as he discovered, I was no longer the conservative teetotaler that I had been in high school. I was so nervous for the meeting that I consumed far too much alcohol throughout the night and blacked out. He ended up taking care of me, and I attempted to initiate drunk sex multiple times. My initiating line was apparently, 'Who cares what the fucking Pope says? Just fuck me already!' Needless to say, nothing happened that night.

The next night, he texted, "There's a train to yours that leaves here at 10:30. I need to see you again. Sober." I agreed almost immediately. I'm not really sure how it happened, but before long, he was just in boxers fiddling with my bra. It was the first time that we had ever seen each other completely naked. I asked if he had any condoms with him and he paused. He whispered, "Not yet." We ended up meeting every night until graduation and every time I told him I was ready, he responded, "Not yet." His hesitation confused me—I knew he wasn't a virgin, and come on—we had to make up for lost time, right? The second I dropped my staunch Catholic views, he seemed to have adopted them.

We decided to get back together officially during the summer. I was headed to graduate school in another country and he was staying in New England for his job. I spent my second-to-last weekend in the States with him, and he surprised me with a weekend at a beach house. We arrived late the first night, and the usual making-out-and-peeling-off-clothes routine started.

To my surprise, he was the one who groaned, "Can we finally do this?" He then confessed that he didn't want to sleep with me until we were dating, and he had been planning this for months. I told him I was more than ready. He started by going down on me, and I was so close to coming, but I wanted him inside of me badly. When I finally pulled his face to mine and guided him inside of me, it hurt like hell to the point that I started crying. We backed off from vaginal sex and found other ways to make my body more comfortable. We spent a majority of the weekend naked and exploring each other's bodies. By the end of the weekend, we were properly enjoying sex.

So, yes, I lost my virginity in a beach house to a guy I met when I was fourteen and have been in love with since I was seventeen. We're still together, and, although the long-distance can be tough at times, I don't regret a single day. I can't tell you how glad I am that I never signed that 'True Love Waits' pledge.